


Whatever Works

by mggislife2789



Category: Criminal Minds, Spencer Reid - Fandom
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Making Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 20:34:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10557312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mggislife2789/pseuds/mggislife2789
Summary: Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters or their original stories. This is only for fun. It's where my brain goes after the credits roll. No copyright intended. Better safe than sorry. ;)





	

This was a weird fucking arrangement the two of you had. Whatever. It worked for you. After working together fairly often over the past couple of years, two things were very obvious. You and Spencer Reid couldn’t stand each other. And you also had the hots for each other.

Months ago, he’d been rambling on and on about what the unsub was doing to the victims, trying in vain to get you to let out some emotion. It bothered him that you blocked yourself off from feeling in order to do this job. Anyway, he’d been talking and talking and talking and all you wanted for him to do was shut up, so you’d grabbed his face in your hands and crushed your lips into his, which led to the two of up against the wall of drawers, with his heated hands running over your cool skin, as his lips traveled the length of your neck. 

Since that day, you’d said next to nothing regarding what happened. But it kept happening. Each and every time he walked in, you’d tell him whatever he need to know and then you’d end up, in some way, shape or form, heavily making out in your office, tongues tasting each other as nails dug into warm, soft flesh. 

Neither of you really had time for relationships given how busy your jobs were. Plus, even if you had time, the two of you would drive each other nuts. You were too alike for a relationship between you to ever work. You’d butt heads too much. It had almost become a joke, with you saying until next time as you fixed his collar before he’s walk out the door. Day or not, your arrangement remained the same.

It was 2 o’clock in the afternoon and he was on his way to go over a couple of victims they were investigating during the course of an equivocal death investigation. They were trying to see if they died of heart attacks or if there was something more sinister at play, and from the looks of it there was. “Hello, Dr. Reid,” you said unenthusiastically as he entered the room without even knocking. That had been a blowout fight. He did that all the time, scaring the living piss out of you because he couldn’t have the forethought to knock. “How are you today?”

“Do you actually care, or should we just cut to the chase?” he snapped back. “I’m not one for formalities as you know.”

“Neither am I, so yes, let’s cut the shit and get to it,” you said, lifting the sheets over each victim’s feet. “There is a small puncture wound between the first and second toes of all your victims. I ran a tox screen, and as I suspected, the results were positive for heroin.” The thing was that none of these men looked like they were regular heroin users. If they were, they’d weigh less. Their skin would be drawn and cracked. Their eyes sunken. None of them had shown sides of any of that, so they’d likely been murdered, rather than having overdosed themselves. 

“Wonderful,” he said, slapping his hands over his eyes and dramatically sliding them down his face. The BAU had had some pretty hefty cases lately, and he was tired. All of you were. “So we have another murderer on the loose. When is this going to end?”

“If it ends, you’re out of a job, doctor.”

“At this point in my life, I think I’d be okay with that,” he replied, as both of you took your coats off. This had become the routine - disrobe slightly so you had easier access to each other. Reaching out, he grabbed the side of your neck, bringing you toward him and grazing his lips over the muscles in your neck. He always started there, because it worked to get you hot under the collar in a matter of minutes. Your hands gripped tighter around his neck as he lifted you up onto your desk, ripping the buttons of your shirt open and raking his teeth over your chest.

“What am I supposed to cover myself with now?” you asked hotly, although you couldn’t care too much when he had his mouth running over your overheated skin. 

As he flattened his tongue and brought it up the length of your collarbone, you moaned, your hands tangling in his hair and tugging it backward. “Wear a jacket,” he quipped. “Just shut up for two seconds.” You were about to respond - maybe tell him to go fuck himself - when he swallowed your words, his tongue delving into your mouth and coaxing it into a sensual dance. “You talk too much.”

“If that isn’t the pot calling the kettle black,” you replied, the sneer seeping out of every part of you. He went to open his mouth again, come back at you with something else because he always had to have the last word. “Who’s talking too much now?”

Hopping off the table, you pushed him across the room until he hit the empty examination table, sitting down and pulling you into his lap. You ground down into his lap, wanting to rid yourselves of the barriers between you. But it never went any further than this. That would require feelings neither of you wanted to have. As he’d done before, you pulled open the buttons of his shirt, and bit down, bringing forth a hiss from his throat. But he didn’t pull you away, so you did it again, making sure to leave them in spots he could cover up again. Last thing you both needed was for one of your superiors to question the nature of this relationship or whatever the fuck you wanted to call it. “Give me your tongue,” you growled, biting his lower lip before sucking his tongue into your mouth.

“I don’t take orders from you,” he mumbled as he did what you said anyway. “You’re not the boss of me.”

“As long as you have this,” you said, grazing your hand over his member through his pants, “and I have this, I am the boss of you.” Just as things were about to get heated again, and maybe even go further than they had before, you heard a knock at the door. It was your intern. “Fuck.”

“Goddammit,” he groaned quietly, running his tongue over your lips as he refastened his buttons. Again, his collar had gotten fucked up by the intensity of it all, so you pulled it to the sides, flattening it with your palms before pulling his bottom lip between your teeth one last time for now. 

“Until next time,” you smirked, pushing the hair out of his eyes before he walked toward the door. 

“Until next time,” he repeated, wiping the lipstick off of his own lips. “Pain in the ass.”

“Shithead.”


End file.
